Double Blind Challenge

[greenmountaineer]

Frayed Reflection

My reflection doesn't show
what you say you see
try as I might to find it

Sometimes the fear rises
swells to overwhelming
that in time you'll see
the ugly truth
in all the flaws I strive to hide
dread spilling out and over
the thought of disappointment
in your eyes

If I show you my scars
make all my broken pieces known
will you still think I'm beautiful
and hold me close
or change your mind
and let me go?

There's a coherence to this draft, but it's much too abstract for me.

Don't tell us what "the ugly truth" is; give the reader a hint. Let him or figure it out. An important part of poetry appreciation is the "aha" that comes with discovery of meaning IMO.

I would reconstruct the pieces of the broken mirror in L1 of S3, instead of L2, and put scars in L2 in which case the scars beome more visible to the poet's lover which is what poet wants and fears. I might even introduce "shards" to S3 to suggest how complicated it is to reconstruct the self that has been broken, and even then may be incomplete. Shards to my mind suggest many more than broken pieces which may be just a few. For some that may be extending the metaphor more than needed; perhaps, but it may trigger some thought about other images that might bring "the ugly truth" into sharper focus.

 

[Angeline]

My most substantial publication ever was a mathematics text produced many years ago when I still had pretensions of being an academic. I was astonished and more than a bit humbled by the diligence of the editors, making sure they got everything dead right - even though I am pretty certain they frequently had no understanding of the content. And the pay these technical editors got was pitiful.

Line editors (sometimes called "copyeditors") are more akin to proofreaders and the pay ain't great. If you do what's called "substantive editing," where you're not just correcting errors but also rewriting for clarity and organization, the pay goes up. And if you can diversify--edit for a variety of media--you can do quite well. It pays to be as versatile as possible.

 

[greenmountaineer]

Poem 7 posted for feedback

Stories to Tell

He’s familiar in our local coffee shop,
tolerated if not welcomed;
unshaven and scruffy,
pocketing discarded newspapers,
unused creamer pots
and sugar packets,
looking like he’s doing a favour.

We see him often, on the highway,
trudging along the shoulder
in all weathers. He must cover miles,
his backpack always looks heavy.
Stale news, with cream and sugar?

There he is now, in the distance,
turning when he hears a car.
It’s a chilly spring day
and his thumb is out.
Frost crusts the scrubby grass at his feet
but he is wearing sandals and shorts,
his usual summer attire.
He’s in a hurry for warm days
And his knobbly knees look blue.

I want to stop, I really do,
but the driver, owner of this new car
and, he thinks, of me worries
“he looks like he smells.”
So we sweep on by, I catch
his eye, he nods, smiling
as if in understanding.
Unexpected tears prick my eyes.

One day I’ll stop,
He has stories to tell,
I know.

 

[Angeline]

Stories to Tell

He’s familiar in our local coffee shop,
tolerated if not welcomed;
unshaven and scruffy,
pocketing discarded newspapers,
unused creamer pots
and sugar packets,
looking like he’s doing a favour.

We see him often, on the highway,
trudging along the shoulder
in all weathers. He must cover miles,
his backpack always looks heavy.
Stale news, with cream and sugar?

There he is now, in the distance,
turning when he hears a car.
It’s a chilly spring day
and his thumb is out.
Frost crusts the scrubby grass at his feet
but he is wearing sandals and shorts,
his usual summer attire.
He’s in a hurry for warm days
And his knobbly knees look blue.

I want to stop, I really do,
but the driver, owner of this new car
and, he thinks, of me worries
“he looks like he smells.”
So we sweep on by, I catch
his eye, he nods, smiling
as if in understanding.
Unexpected tears prick my eyes.

One day I’ll stop,
He has stories to tell,
I know.

This is really good imo: solid, colorful writing, a strong, specific narrative and a thematic statement about the inability to connect with something important to the narrator.

There are a few fixes I'd make. I'd cut the verbiage back a bit where it seems unnecessary. For example:

He’s familiar in our local coffee shop,
"local" isn't needed because "our" already suggests it's a place the narrator and her partner frequent.

Frost crusts the scrubby grass at his feet
"scrubby" doesn't really add anything necessary to the poem

his usual summer attire.
This whole line seems unnecessary because we already know what he's wearing and the following line suggests why he's wearing it.

There are some long sentences with comma splices, where one could either add an "and" or break into two sentences. Depending on what pace the author wants, they could do one or the other. I think it would be better to have more sentence variety, but maybe that's me.

There are a few places where the comma seems wrong to me:
S2, L1: after "often"
S2, L5: after "news"

In S3, L9 the "And" should be lowercase

In S4 I would put the following in parentheses: "and, he thinks, of me" because it's an important part of the poem imo and needs to stand out a bit more.

In S4 I'd drop that last line ("Unexpected tears prick my eyes.") down to stand on its own because it's thematically critical imo as it expresses the narrator's frustration at being unable to connect with someone (or something) meaningful. Letting the line have space around it gives the reader time to pause and sense it's important. Just my opinion.

Overall a really (really) well-written and moving poem.

 

[ishtat]

Stories to Tell

He’s familiar in our local coffee shop,
tolerated if not welcomed;
unshaven and scruffy,
pocketing discarded newspapers,
unused creamer pots
and sugar packets,
looking like he’s doing a favour.

We see him often, on the highway,
trudging along the shoulder
in all weathers. He must cover miles,
his backpack always looks heavy.
Stale news, with cream and sugar?

There he is now, in the distance,
turning when he hears a car.
It’s a chilly spring day
and his thumb is out.
Frost crusts the scrubby grass at his feet
but he is wearing sandals and shorts,
his usual summer attire.
He’s in a hurry for warm days
And his knobbly knees look blue.

I want to stop, I really do,
but the driver, owner of this new car
and, he thinks, of me worries
“he looks like he smells.”
So we sweep on by, I catch
his eye, he nods, smiling
as if in understanding.
Unexpected tears prick my eyes.

One day I’ll stop,
He has stories to tell,
I know.

I'm in pretty solid agreement with Angeline on this one but suggest a slightly different, less specific approach. First go through and take out as much as you possibly can, then go through again and put back as much as you think you definitely need. I think it's a useful review gleaning process, you may end up where you started but you might end up with a 'tighter' result.

One particularity: In part four if you change 'and, he thinks, of me worries'
to thinks of me and worries, you might not need parentheses.

 

[Magnetron]

Stories to Tell

He’s familiar in our local coffee shop,
tolerated if not welcomed;
unshaven and scruffy,
pocketing discarded newspapers,
unused creamer pots
and sugar packets,
looking like he’s doing a favour.

We see him often, on the highway,
trudging along the shoulder
in all weathers. He must cover miles,
his backpack always looks heavy.
Stale news, with cream and sugar?

There he is now, in the distance,
turning when he hears a car.
It’s a chilly spring day
and his thumb is out.
Frost crusts the scrubby grass at his feet
but he is wearing sandals and shorts,
his usual summer attire.
He’s in a hurry for warm days
And his knobbly knees look blue.

I want to stop, I really do,
but the driver, owner of this new car
and, he thinks, of me worries
“he looks like he smells.”
So we sweep on by, I catch
his eye, he nods, smiling
as if in understanding.
Unexpected tears prick my eyes.

One day I’ll stop,
He has stories to tell,
I know.

I think this poem would benefit by taking it just a little bit further.

1st] Your vagabond is collecting these items that complement coffee. So why not mention at the end that you'll stop and give him a _______________ to go with his cream and sugar.

2nd] He is gathering up old newspapers that you refer to as stale news. So why not mention at the end that you'll stop because he has _______________ stories to tell.

Perhaps the average reader will come to these conclusions regardless if you leave it as is, but I wouldn't chance it.

 

[butters]

Frayed Reflection

My reflection doesn't show
what you say you see
try as I might to find it

Sometimes the fear rises
swells to overwhelming
that in time you'll see
the ugly truth
in all the flaws I strive to hide
dread spilling out and over
the thought of disappointment
in your eyes

If I show you my scars
make all my broken pieces known
will you still think I'm beautiful
and hold me close
or change your mind
and let me go?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


My main bug-bear with this piece has to be its title: to me, 'frayed' suggests textile – cloth or wool, tattered lace even... strands. It doesn't seem to have any link whatsoever with the rest of the poem. I found it distracted me as I read through, simply because I couldn't find any tie-in with the body. Also, since 'reflection' is used in L1, I don't see what extra is being brought to the table using it in the title. Suggestion: use something like 'Reflecting' or 'Cracked', even 'Distortions'. I'd not choose 'Broken' as that sounds too harsh given the context. 'Reflecting' or 'Reflections' lends itself to the introspective nature of the write.

The subject matter, however, is one anyone who has ever been in love can buy into instantly. Could it use some rewording? Of course. Maybe go with the 'should I keep the mirror tarnished, try to see what you do? Or repair the cracks and trust in love not to let me see my flaws reflected in your eyes?' kind of thing. Of course, the lover's eyes are the true mirror, and to read disappointment in them would be shattering.

Lot of suggestions been put forward for this write; it'll be interesting to see where it gets taken. Trouble with lots of varying feedback is getting stymied by trying to choose what'll work best! Good luck!

 

[Piscator]

Stories to Tell

I agree with the GM, Angeline, Ishat and MagRon that this is a good poem that requires tightening and polishing as detailed in their comments. On rereading however, I was struck by the fact that although the title is Stories to Tell the next reference to stories is in the the last three lines and seems tangential. If fact I was about to suggest removin these line until I looked back at the title.

 

[ishtat]

Frayed Reflection

Lot of suggestions been put forward for this write; it'll be interesting to see where it gets taken. Trouble with lots of varying feedback is getting stymied by trying to choose what'll work best! Good luck!

The Poet could bypass what you perceive as a problem by creating two poems rather than one from the comments.

 

[greenmountaineer]

Stories to Tell

He’s familiar in our local coffee shop,
tolerated if not welcomed;
unshaven and scruffy,
pocketing discarded newspapers,
unused creamer pots
and sugar packets,
looking like he’s doing a favour.

We see him often, on the highway,
trudging along the shoulder
in all weathers. He must cover miles,
his backpack always looks heavy.
Stale news, with cream and sugar?

There he is now, in the distance,
turning when he hears a car.
It’s a chilly spring day
and his thumb is out.
Frost crusts the scrubby grass at his feet
but he is wearing sandals and shorts,
his usual summer attire.
He’s in a hurry for warm days
And his knobbly knees look blue.

I want to stop, I really do,
but the driver, owner of this new car
and, he thinks, of me worries
“he looks like he smells.”
So we sweep on by, I catch
his eye, he nods, smiling
as if in understanding.
Unexpected tears prick my eyes.

One day I’ll stop,
He has stories to tell,
I know.

There is some redundancy as previously noted that seems superfluous.

The syntax in L3S4 initially confused me. In removing "he thinks," it becomes clearer IMO:

I want to stop, I really do,
but the driver, owner of this new car
and of me worries...

"owner..../of me" suggests acquiesence for now and adds greater contrast to the "yes but" determination at the conclusion, but "he thinks" stuck in my craw, even at the end of the poem. I think the contrast would be cleaner without it.

The narrative is an enticing story and sufficient in itself. As I read it, however, I began thinking could the poet further the distance between the street person and herself and the sadness therein by the inclusion of more images in the narrative? For example, a metropolis is more impersonal than a smaller community(although perhaps unintended, that's what came to mind when I read at the very beginning "our local coffee shop.) Perhaps the couple is running late to their high powered careers downtown. Both spatial and psychological distancing between the two might make a good poem better.

 

[legerdemer]

Stories to Tell

He’s familiar in our local coffee shop,
tolerated if not welcomed;
unshaven and scruffy,
pocketing discarded newspapers,
unused creamer pots
and sugar packets,
looking like he’s doing a favour.

We see him often, on the highway,
trudging along the shoulder
in all weathers. He must cover miles,
his backpack always looks heavy.
Stale news, with cream and sugar?

There he is now, in the distance,
turning when he hears a car.
It’s a chilly spring day
and his thumb is out.
Frost crusts the scrubby grass at his feet
but he is wearing sandals and shorts,
his usual summer attire.
He’s in a hurry for warm days
and his knobbly knees look blue.

I want to stop, I really do,
but the driver, owner of this new car
and, he thinks, of me worries
“he looks like he smells.”
So we sweep on by, I catch
his eye, he nods, smiling
as if in understanding.
Unexpected tears prick my eyes.

One day I’ll stop,
He has stories to tell,
I know.

I like this poem quite a bit. To me, the stories in the title doesn't clash or raise any unmet expectations: the man himself is a story told, in addition to being someone with stories to tell. The poem tells a story - much in the way of gm's character studies - that, in the telling, reflects on the teller as much as it portrays the central subject of the story. Nicely done.

Some specific suggestions:

1) Stale news, with cream and sugar? - this line seems misplaced to me - it disrupts the flow between the second and third stanzas; if it were me, I would have put it at the end of the previous stanza.

2) “he looks like he smells.”: to me, it should be "he smells like he looks"; the looks are self-evident, whereas the smell is not and needs to be evoked by comparison. The "he thinks" did not bother me, though it did jar the flow. I thought this jarring was purposeful - it points out tension between the narrator and car's owner. There may be another way of conveying this tension, but I think the way it appears now is fine.

Just below, I might replace "so" with "as":

As we sweep on by,
I catch his eye;
he nods, smiling
as if in understanding.
Unexpected tears prick my eyes.

This rearrangement puts in evidence the rhymes, and even though the rest of the poem doesn't rhyme (much), these are so "light" that they don't distract or bother me.

3) The comma at the end of the first line of the last stanza should be a period.

I enjoyed it and think few changes are necessary to make it even better.

 

[AlwaysHungry]

“he looks like he smells.”: to me, it should be "he smells like he looks"; the looks are self-evident, whereas the smell is not and needs to be evoked by comparison.

The syntax is a little ambiguous, but I'm pretty sure that the author meant to say "He looks like he might smell." The poem's narrator can't smell him from inside the moving car, and is speculating.

 

[HarryHill]

2) “he looks like he smells.”: to me, it should be "he smells like he looks";

"He looks like he might smell."

..
You two have no experience working inner city retail. this is a first hand observation

 

[legerdemer]

Yep, too true. Though I've been close enough to quite a number of homeless people in my lifetime to, well, sniff knowingly.

 

[greenmountaineer]

I'll be posting the last poem for feedback immediately after this.

For those wishing to guess authorship, anytime really is OK, but do give some consideration for feedback on the last poem. I wouldn't want it unintentionally pushed to the background from a flurry posts wondering who penned what.

Here are some hints:

There were 8 poets who submitted, 1 submitting 2 poems. They are frequent visitors to PF&D. There are 5 males and 3 females among the poets.

Reminder: Poets will post their own poem directly on SUNDAY, whether or not he or she made changes to it. At that time, the poet may wish comment on the feedback itself.

3 of the commentators did not submit a draft. So it's been a nice small group of 11 discussing the 9 entries. The idea was to create a "cyber" poetry workshop. I can't speak for others, of course, but I often found the feedback as interesting and thought-provoking as the poems. In that regard I hope the conversation continues, and the thread finds its own conclusion.

 

[greenmountaineer]

Poem 9 posted for feedback

Totemic

Once muscular, the stark
naked gray-bark elm,
is a balding man

and yet more than a stump,
and its thick trunk proudly points up
headstrong, so to speak.

I want to say it's an obelisk
and wonder how many gnarly
rings there are still oozing spunk

as the morning's wet sheen drips
after last night's ether and aura
ménage in swarthy pungent sky.

 

[AlwaysHungry]

Totemic

Once muscular, the stark
naked gray-bark elm,
is a balding man

and yet more than a stump,
and its thick trunk proudly points up
headstrong, so to speak.

I want to say it's an obelisk
and wonder how many gnarly
rings there are still oozing spunk

as the morning's wet sheen drips
after last night's ether and aura
ménage in swarthy pungent sky.

Now, that's some good work. Every line provokes the imagination in a new way. It's the only entry thus far that strikes me as a finished poem right out of the gate.

 

[legerdemer]

Totemic

Once muscular, the stark
naked gray-bark elm,
is a balding man

and yet more than a stump,
and its thick trunk proudly points up
headstrong, so to speak.

I want to say it's an obelisk
and wonder how many gnarly
rings there are still oozing spunk

as the morning's wet sheen drips
after last night's ether and aura
ménage in swarthy pungent sky.

This poem fairly drips--nay, oozes--innuendo. It starts out very strong but ends by really puzzling me.

I'll get some quibbles out of the way first:

There should be no punctuation interrupting the flow (cough) between gray-bark elm and the next line
The two lines in the second stanza both starting with "and" bother me; I think the 'and' at the beginning of the second one can go away happily.

Finally - and this is my biggest issue - the ménage troubles me. I might assume it's referring to the stump, the ether and the aura, but in fact the other partners seem implied, though I can't guess at their identity. So the poem, oozing and dripping imagery up to now, leaves me scratching my head in confusion, and makes me wonder if I'm lacking the right head for the job.

One more quibble, about the bolded word below:

I want to say it's an obelisk
and wonder how many gnarly
rings there are still oozing spunk

My instinct is to suggest deleting it, as unnecessary and interrupting the flow:

I want to say it's an obelisk
and wonder how many gnarly
rings are still oozing spunk

It's confusing because I don't know whether it refers to direction (there vs here) or whether it's a sort of awkward construction (there are). If the latter, then it's definitely superfluous. If the former - why the distinction? Where else should I be looking?

 

[AlwaysHungry]

There should be no punctuation interrupting the flow (cough) between gray-bark elm and the next line
The two lines in the second stanza both starting with "and" bother me; I think the 'and' at the beginning of the second one can go away happily.

Finally - and this is my biggest issue - the ménage troubles me. I might assume it's referring to the stump, the ether and the aura, but in fact the other partners seem implied, though I can't guess at their identity.

I think Mer is right about the comma. But truth be told, I am all for the "and", as well as the "so to speak", the "I want to say", and the "and wonder". I think that one of the reasons the poem works so well for me is the ironic tension between the dense imagery and the casual, conversational tone that the narrator adopts. As far as the ménage is concerned, perhaps it could be understood as a sort of stretto, where the eroticism of the depiction of the tree sort of flows out to embrace the universe. I think that the conclusion gives free rein to the imagination, but not in an arbitrary way. For me, this is the Goldilocks poem, not too prosaic, not too free-form and word-salad-ish.

 

[Angeline]

I really like Totemic. It's a dense poem by which I mean there's lots happening and all by way of metaphor. However, I also am unsure about the last three lines. But first I want to chime in on Mer's and AH's noting of the comma after "elm" in S1L2. It's wrong imo because it's breaking apart the subject ("elm") and the verb ("is"). It's interesting because even though it's just an unnecessary comma it throws off the whole first strophe.

Once muscular, the stark
naked gray-bark elm,
is a balding man

The comma in line one creates a dangling modifier as it's rather far from what it describes (the elm), but that doesn't really bother me. The problem is that the two commas together set off what appears to be a parenthetical statement ("the stark naked gray-bark elm"). At least that's the way I kept trying to read it. It can't be parenthetical though because "Once muscular is a balding man" has no subject. Separating the subject from its verb almost never works. Sometimes the little things, like a comma, can create big problems.

As to the ending, I get that the poem is a metaphor that creeps up on eroticism and builds to a clearly sexual image at the end. First though, I'm not sure how "aura" is different from "ether." Are they both night air? Wind? And then the ménage is unspecified as to number so it's unclear how is the elm involved. It's not mentioned so I have to assume the ménage is between the two things that are. To further confuse me, the elm's rings are oozing but all the action seems to be up in the sky. I think these three lines need to be rewritten to clarify (even though it's all metaphor) how these three things together create the erotic picture. And maybe replace "aura" with something more distinguished from "ether."

Having nitpicked like crazy I still think the poem is excellent: the slow build to the erotic finish works perfectly with the metaphor and the writing is spare but precise. It just needs a little work imo.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

without reading the previous takes on this poem - here's mine. I agree, it's a strong poem saying more than its volume promises. Only a few suggestions....in v.2 too many "ands", a stump points up as a rule. in 3 the word "obelisk" seems wrong to me, as does "gnarly" - perhaps gnarled? spunk is another "spigot" word and seems out of place to me, it's not erotic even though it leans towards sexuality. I still think this is a good piece and the previous blather is just my take,

Totemic

Once muscular, the stark
naked gray-bark elm,
is a balding man

and yet more than a stump,
and its thick trunk proudly points up,
headstrong, so to speak.

I want to say it's an obelisk
and wonder how many gnarly
rings there are, still oozing spunk

as the morning's wet sheen drips
after from last night's ether and aura
ménage in the swarthy, pungent sky.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Frayed Reflection

My reflection doesn't show
what you say you see
try as I might to find it

Sometimes the fear rises
swells to overwhelming
that in time you'll see
the ugly truth
in all the flaws I strive to hide
dread spilling out and over
the thought of disappointment
in your eyes

If I show you my scars
make all my broken pieces known
will you still think I'm beautiful
and hold me close
or change your mind
and let me go?[/QUOTE]

I've been too busy to do justice to many of the poems offered up in this thread (kudos to GM for compere-ing) but I'm going back to this one. briefly looking at other's critique butters mentioned the title, I agree the poem deserves a better one. The lack of punctuation, which could have been an issue, actually adds to the panicky feel of the narrative imo.

 

[Magnetron]

Totemic

Once muscular, the stark
naked gray-bark elm,
is a balding man

Strike the second comma.

and yet more than a stump,
and its thick trunk proudly points up
headstrong, so to speak.

Strike the second and.

I want to say it's an obelisk
and wonder how many gnarly
rings there are still oozing spunk

Strike and. Change wonder to wondering. Put a comma after obelisk.

as the morning's wet sheen drips
after last night's ether and aura
ménage in swarthy pungent sky.

Feels to me like the last stanza is from a completely different poem. What's the relationship?

1 - description of a tree
2 - more description of said tree
3 - narrator classifying and wondering about said tree
4 - an assessment of atmospheric conditions

 

[AlwaysHungry]

I want to say it's an obelisk a memorial

Mr. Freud says, "No! It's an obelisk!"

Change wonder to wondering.

Huh? "I want to wondering"?

Feels to me like the last stanza is from a completely different poem. What's the relationship?

1 - description of a tree
2 - more description of said tree
3 - narrator classifying and wondering about said tree
4 - an assessment of atmospheric conditions

Others seem to stumble over that last stanza. I can't speak for the author, but here's my take:

1. the tree is a man
2. the tree is a sexually aroused man
3. the tree/man is making me hot,
4. so hot that the whole earth and sky seem sexy

Seems pretty straightforward to me.

 

[Angeline]

Mr. Freud says, "No! It's an obelisk!"



Huh? "I want to wondering"?



Others seem to stumble over that last stanza. I can't speak for the author, but here's my take:

1. the tree is a man
2. the tree is a sexually aroused man
3. the tree/man is making me hot,
4. so hot that the whole earth and sky seem sexy

Seems pretty straightforward to me.

Ok, but who is "me"? The narrator? The narrator has virtually no voice in the poem except as "I want to say...." And does that mean that "aura" is the earth? I see what you are saying but still think those last three lines need to clarify that as the meaning if that is the meaning.